


The Chain

by disco_theque



Category: U2
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Halloween, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 04:58:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12720105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disco_theque/pseuds/disco_theque
Summary: Edge is a stressed banker, and his car breaks down just before Halloween.





	The Chain

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the first of what will hopefully be a flourishing alternate universe - the band U2 does not exist in this universe (oh, the horror!), but the individual members are here, as regular, every-day people. Edge (a banker) and Bono (a hapless man doing his best) are lifelong friends, Larry is a mechanic, and Adam is a history professor. This fic takes place just before Halloween, 2011.
> 
> We dedicate this (slightly cracky mess) to pjsideproject, fouroux, likeamadonna, spacemonkey, marsdaydream, and occula. You've given us so much here, and we wouldn't have written anything had you not done it first and inspired us - we hope we make you proud.
> 
> Written with the beautiful zoolovelies over a series of increasingly-hilarious iMessage and Google Drive Chat conversations. I wouldn't have been able to take on the past month without the joy that writing this brought me, and I owe it all to you. Shakira, Shakira, my Hallie Parker.

“Dammit!” Edge curses, slamming his hands against his steering wheel. Two blocks from the office, and his otherwise-reliable car had to pick today of all days to crap out on him. His phone buzzes from its spot in his cupholder, a reminder from Bono that he is coming by later on. “I know!” he exclaims, not bothering to pick up his phone to reply, instead giving his steering wheel a few more ineffectual jabs.

Edge hardly regards the towing company driver when he arrives, burying his nose in the growing mountain of emails on his phone. The bumpy ride to the mechanic is mercifully short; even so, by the time they arrive, his shirt sleeves have been pushed up, a frustration-tic that meant all his dress shirts seemed to resist ironing. Especially lately, no matter how on top of things he tried to stay (and he often prided himself on his multi-tasking skills), work had just become too much.

“Will that be okay?”

“What?”

“Your car, sir. I’m going to have to keep it at least all day, your transmission might be completely shot. I’ll give you a call as soon as I know anything, but it probably won’t be ready til this evening, at the earliest.” The mechanic, Larry, according to the embroidery on his jumpsuit, repeats, rolling his eyes, as Edge is already back in his phone before he can finish speaking.

“So, how much is this going to cost me?” Edge asks after a pause, finally pocketing his phone.

Larry sighs. “I’m not sure. If I have to replace the whole thing, you’re looking at $3,500.” He was sure. One look at Edge, the quintessential over-worked banker, and Larry knew that he took out his frustration on his poor car.

“Excuse me?” Edge demands, his voice rising ever-so-slightly, along with his shirt sleeves.

“Like I’ve said, your transmission is shot. This isn’t some easy repair, this is me working at least all day on my craft,” Larry keeps his voice even in an attempt to calm Edge, but he knew how to hold his own with aggressive businessmen.

Edge lets out a huff of a laugh before rubbing his fingers at his temples. “Just… let me know what I’m dealing with later on, okay? I need to get to the office.”

“I will, sir. I’ll do what I can to help you out,” Larry says. “Do you need a lift anywhere? Or are you close?”

“No, no, I can walk.” Edge says, already thumbing through emails again, missing the tiny falter in Larry’s customer service smile. As much as his bank job caused him stress, he knew he was good at it, and he took pride in his commitment - he had watched his friends stumble through relationships and careers, and while he had remained woefully single, his job gave him stability and most days, that was enough for him. He wanted some time to clear his head before going into work for the day, some time to forget about the way it started off, and he knew he wouldn’t get that silence with this chatty mechanic. Nice guy, though, Edge thinks to himself before shaking his hand and heading out to the street.

The remainder of his workday is, thankfully, uneventful. Emails and paperwork keep Edge’s mind mostly off his car; even though he was heading into a busy time of year at the bank, his brain is at its best when it’s just slightly overwhelmed. He works past 7 o’clock, and doesn’t realize Bono arrives until he (dramatically) throws himself into the armchair opposite Edge’s desk.

“You said you’d be done hours ago, Edge! You said we could have fun tonight. I want to have fun!”

“B, we can have fun tonight when I’m done here. I’ve been trying to work through your finances all afternoon!” Edge sighs, finally regarding his longtime dear friend. “...Why did you bring a bottle of champagne here?”

“Because a certain Mister The Edge told me that if I stopped by tonight to look over some things, we could do whatever I wanted to afterward. You said so, Edge. You did!” Bono replies, settling back in his chair. Edge knows Bono well enough to know that his next move will be to kick his feet up onto the desk, and Bono knows Edge well enough to know that he will get a stern look in return. He’s feeling brave, and does it anyway, while he opens his bottle with a gentle pop. “Do you have any champagne flutes here?”

“Any--? No! Bono, I’m trying to help you through your financial--” Edge is cut off by Bono jumping out of his chair, then he presses the champagne bottle to Edge’s lips. He begrudgingly drinks until Bono deems he has enough, rolling his eyes when Bono pulls the bottle away and to his own mouth. Edge waits til Bono has settled back into his chair before sighing and rifling through the paperwork on his desk, though he can’t hide the small smile that now tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Can we talk about your situation now? Please?”

“Bring it on,” Bono replies. He looks far more calm than anyone in debt should appear, and Edge almost envies his friend’s way of coasting through life. They had been friends since secondary school; different in so many ways, but both passionate about life in a way that drew them together. When Edge went into the workforce, taking a sensible job at a big bank, Bono was disappointed, but he knew his friend needed that sense of routine and purpose to keep himself on track. Bono threw himself at whatever project felt good - a few years at a small coffeeshop, some odd jobs at art galleries and the like. His gallery friends formed a makeshift band, and he sang lead on that one hit song that took over the radio in 1987, then vanished from the charts as soon as the calendar turned. He had been getting by on the royalties from the song just fine, but Edge had always kept a careful eye on his friend, and he couldn’t believe Bono had let things slip the way he had.

Edge talks Bono through his own financial history, pausing when he reaches his present situation to put on his reading glasses - a recent necessity when he finds himself sitting behind his desk too long. He slowly stops talking, though, when he realizes Bono is simply staring at him, and likely not listening anymore.

“What? What are you staring at?”

“You,” Bono laughs a little, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear glasses before. They make you look… sexy, in a dignified way.”

“Really? I always thought they made me look kind of nerdy. ...Wait. How did we… I’m trying to be serious here, Bono!”

“Have more champagne, Edge.”

“Bono, are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Now that sounds like something that I would say myself,” Bono replies, handing the bottle to Edge, and moving to a smaller chair on Edge’s side of the desk, again kicking his feet up, his body leaning half over Edge’s chair as he takes in the documents in front of them. “Don’t we have paperwork we should be looking at?” he asks, smoothly switching roles with a charm that Edge recognized all too well.

“You know what,” Edge says, taking another swig from the nearly-empty bottle, “What’s that you’re always saying? ‘Fuck it all?” He glances at the clock on his laptop, before abruptly slamming it shut.

“Whoa!” Bono says, jumping back a little. “Reg, what is this? What’s going on?”

Edge stands and holds his hands up. “It’s fuckin’ half-eight! What am I still doing at work?”

Bono, mouth agape, brings his legs back down to right himself to a proper sitting position. “I don’t know the reasoning for all this,” he says, putting his hands on the desk, lifting himself out of the chair, “But I like it.”

  
They drive to Edge’s house in Bono’s dilapidated car (“It has character,” Bono always is quick to defend his vehicle), and Edge can’t help but think about his own poor car, though his mind wanders to the nice mechanic instead, and he has to smile to himself. Before Edge realizes it, they’re at his house, standing in the kitchen, the thought of food on both of their minds, and a low champagne buzz making Edge feel far happier than he had all day.

“So, how long have you worn glasses?” Bono asks, leaning over the kitchen island. He’s been regarding Edge with a more lingering gaze than usual since they left his office, though Edge is mostly certain it’s due to the champagne.

“A year or so? I don’t know,” Edge replies, rifling through the refrigerator, “What do you want for dinner?” He wants to add a complaint about how he cooks on that counter, could Bono please not lay half his body across it?, but he knows Bono will march on with his train of thought, and he has to hide a smile when Bono does exactly that.

“They make your face look complete, in a way,” he continues, “Not that your face had any problems before, but Reg, you look so handsome.”

“I have leftover Chinese,” Edge says, setting a few plastic containers on the counter. He jumps when he turns; Bono has silently moved so he’s standing right next to him (how does he DO that? Edge wonders to himself). “What are you doing, B?”

“D’you have anything to drink?” Bono asks, inserting himself into the impossibly small space between Edge and the fridge. He makes a small sound of victory when he spots a bottle of white wine. “Chinese sounds good, Reg.”

Edge can only lean back against the counter and marvel at his friend - a lifetime has passed and while he knows Bono like the back of his hand, the slightly smaller man still finds ways to surprise him, to make his breath catch in a tiny way he can’t explain or ignore. As he’s contemplating this, Bono slips past him to gather wine glasses, but then he’s back in Edge’s space, a sly smile overtaking his face. “What?” Edge asks, a little more breathy than he anticipated.

“What?” Bono responds, generously filling the glasses, “I’m starving, let’s eat?”

They easily fall into conversation as they take turns reheating their food, and they sit at the kitchen counter to eat; Bono had started taking evening classes at the local community college after being urged to give something new a try, and Edge is genuinely curious how things are going. Being a student is more fun than Bono expected - the girls hang off Bono’s every word when he speaks up, and he often does since he’s also become something of a teacher’s pet. They laugh about his disdain for note-taking as they eat, and Edge offers the requisite commiseration over the midterm grade he’s waiting on. It’s almost enough for Edge to forget about the tiny butterflies that Bono put in his stomach, but when Bono leans in unnecessarily close to pour more wine for them both, they return.

Edge clears his throat, takes a gulp of wine, and does his best to stay focused. “Do you think your professor--”

“Mr. Clayton,” Bono interjects, blushing ever-so-slightly when he realizes how quickly he’s spoken.

“Do you think Mr. Clayton will go easy on you since you’re not used to this college thing?”

Bono chews his lo mein thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t be opposed to him going hard on me, if that’s what you’re asking, Reg.”

Edge is thankful he doesn’t have anything in his mouth, he’s sure he would have choked, but before he can get out a response, Bono is laughing, loudly. “Relax! I’m joking!” A sip of wine, “Adam - he told me I can call him that since we’re the same age - Adam doesn’t seem like he plays favorites. But… I’m clearly his favorite,” Bono smiles into his wine glass.

“And what makes you think that?” Edge can feel giddiness settling in as he realizes how much wine and champagne he’s had to drink, and he’s having fun with Bono on the hot seat for a change.

“Hmm,” Bono swirls his wine for a moment, smile growing, “He lets out this smirk of a smile if someone argues with him, when he’s impressed with where we’ve taken the discussion. I’ve had the honor of being on the receiving end of it quite a few times, I’ll have you know!”

“Hot for teacher…” Edge mumbles, standing up. Bono doesn’t hear him, and he looks lost in his thoughts, his smile settling on something a little wicked. “Are you done? Give me your plate.”

“I can help, you know.” Bono follows Edge to the sink, once again crowding his personal space. Edge barely has time to drop their plates in the sink before Bono’s talking again, his voice a touch rougher. “I’m still not over you wearing glasses. Adam looks so cute in his, but there’s something utterly manly about you in them.” Before Edge can react, Bono’s hands are on the sides of his face, heat lingering as he removes Edge’s glasses and puts them on his own face. He takes his sunglasses off their perch on top of his head, and puts them on Edge.

“What are you doing?” Edge asks, too aware of the hitch in his breath.

“I just wanted you to see how good you look in these glasses,” Bono explains.

“I… what? That doesn’t make any--” Bono cuts Edge off with a firm kiss. “--sense.” Edge pulls back slightly, not enough to give Bono the impression he wants out of his arms (when did Bono put his arms around him?), but just so he can take in Bono’s open, eager face. “It’s been so long since we did this, B,” Edge begins, but he can already feel himself leaning back in.

“I know,” Bono whispers, “But I know you’re stressed. And I know this always helped you relax,” he continues, one hand gently stroking Edge’s lower back.

“Being a teacher’s pet sure has made you confident,” Edge murmurs as his lips meet Bono’s again. Bono quickly deepens the kiss, his mouth opening to Edge’s tongue. They hold each other like this for a moment, re-learning each other’s mouths, the things that make the other let out soft little noises, before the kiss turns dirtier, Bono’s mouth moving to Edge’s neck, his chin nudging against Edge’s shirt collar.

“Your damn tie…” Bono mutters on a giddy, low laugh. He glances up at Edge, realizing they are still wearing each other’s glasses. Edge sighs with a hint of relief when Bono removes his sunglasses for him, then does same for Bono with a serene smile.

“Hello.” Edge says, happy to see Bono’s unobstructed face (though he has to admit, his glasses did suit Bono quite well). Bono smiles back before getting to work on his tie, and Edge can only lean back against the counter and let his friend do this for him. Memories of business school flood Edge’s brain, nights of stress over assignments that ended with Bono on his back, breathless and eyes blazing. And the other nights, too, when Edge could hardly keep up with the evening, and they’d both be naked before he would realize it.

Bono’s undoing his buttons now, and Edge comes back to the present, looks around his kitchen, at the home he’s made for himself. “Come here,” Edge pulls Bono back against him. He grunts softly as he’s pressed against the counter, and the sound sets something off in Bono. In one motion, he’s pulled off his own t-shirt and is pulling Edge down to the floor on top of him.

“It’s been so long, B…” Edge again murmurs between kisses.

“Stop fucking talking, please,” Bono responds, his voice rising on the “please” more than a little wantonly, and Edge’s head is spinning with desire. Bono takes the opportunity to roll them, pinning Edge to the floor, and he finally, gratefully, returns his mouth to Edge’s neck, no shirt or tie in his way this time. It doesn’t take long for Edge to begin moaning, and Bono grinds against him to draw out the sound. They roll again, and Edge would stop to pick up his phone that falls out of his pocket with a dull thunk, but Bono is damn near purring under him, and it suddenly becomes very important that Edge hears more of that, so he begins a meandering trail of kisses down his chest. Bono’s breathy little noises are going straight to Edge’s cock, and when Edge gently bites Bono’s left nipple, he expects a groan in return. What he doesn’t anticipate is laughter, straight from Bono’s chest, so he feels it before he can hear it.

“What can possibly be making you laugh, B?” Frustration is apparent in Edge’s voice as he glances up at Bono, whose face is screwed up in a mix of laughter and pleasure.

“I don’t mean to be this forward, but how you do feel about a menage a trois?”

Edge nearly chokes on his own spit. “What?!”

Bono only responds with a throaty laugh, “C’mon, Reg, I’m kidding… It seems we have an audience is all.” He gestures to Edge’s forgotten phone, which is laying on the floor near them. With wide eyes, Edge turns his head to see that a call with Mullen Auto Body is connected.

In the scramble to pick up his phone before Bono does, Edge accidentally knees him in the side, and he hisses out a frantic “Shh!” before settling back against the kitchen cabinets. “Larry, was it? I’m so sorry, my phone fell and my friend was of no help.”

Larry’s laugh is thick with amusement, and Edge blushes. “I was just about to give up on the call, Edge!” Bono is all but crawling into Edge’s lap, despite his attempts to push him to the side (“Like a damn cat,” Edge thinks). Edge grunts out a short, strained laugh in reply, and Larry rattles on, “I’m sorry to be calling so late, but I promised I’d let you know what was going on.” Edge glances at the clock above the stove, he can’t believe Larry is calling him at 11 o’clock. “Your car isn’t in great shape, I’m sorry to report. I thought I’d be able to get the transmission fixed up this evening so you could have it back for the weekend, but… I just don’t see that happening.”

“Shit. How long are we talking here?” Edge nearly groans. He’s frustrated by his car, sure, but Bono is also back to licking and kissing his neck and ear; the sound certainly has to be obscene on Larry’s end of the call.

“Monday afternoon, at the earliest, I think. But! I have a proposition for you.” The upturn in Larry’s voice sets something off in Edge, and he scoots out from under Bono and stands up. “I want to make this up to you. Do you know the Tawdry Peacock?”

“Yeah, it’s actually just a few blocks from my place!” Edge regards Bono with a smile he can’t contain, and it grows fondly when he sees him now sprawled on his back and writhing a little, always the drama queen.

“Oh, that’s great. Let me take you out tomorrow night. We can grab a few beers, you can tell me a thing or two about your fancy job, and I can explain to you how to drive without wrecking your transmission.” There’s a warmth in Larry’s voice that makes Edge laugh out loud, and he can’t ignore the giddy feeling pooling in his stomach.

“Eeeedge,” Bono whines from his spot on the floor.

“Hang on!” Edge whispers, before clearing his throat. “Larry, that sounds great.”

“Does it?” Larry sounds pleased with himself, “I’ll pick you up around 8. You left your address on the paperwork, right?”

“I did,” Edge replies, crouching down to push Bono’s hair behind his ear.

“Great, I’ll see you then. Oh, and it’s Halloween weekend, so I assume costumes will be expected of us! See you tomorrow!”

Larry hangs up before Edge can process what he’s added, and he regards Bono with a giddy smile. “Where were we?” he asks, sliding his body fully on top of Bono’s. He places one kiss to Bono’s chest before he sits upright, panic flashing across his face.

“What’s wrong now?” Bono asks.

“He said I need a Halloween costume? I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since I was a kid! B, I dressed up as a fucking businessman the last time I did! I don’t know the first thing about costumes! Who dresses up when they’re an adult?!”

“Oh my god…” Bono murmurs on a sigh. “You’ll figure something out.” He knows almost immediately it’s a lost cause, though; Edge’s brain has hit panic mode, and it’s clear he wants to impress this mechanic. He thrusts his hips up against Edge’s in an attempt to regain his attention, but Edge just smiles down at him, looking a little overwhelmed by his phone call. “Just, kiss me a little more first?”

“That sounds good,” Edge says, but Bono can tell he’s not completely into it anymore. They kiss less urgently now, and it’s not long before Bono sighs and pushes Edge slightly up and off of him.

“This is your mechanic, correct?” Bono asks, keeping his voice light, but knowing full well Edge can hear the tinge of jealousy in it.

“Yes. He’s… charming,” Edge leans back in to kiss Bono’s neck, not interested in dealing with a series of questions.

“And he’s convinced you to go out, for Halloween, in a costume? You’ve known him… a day?”

“Yes, B. He feels bad my car is taking so long. He’s sweet!”

“Sweet…” Bono murmurs, trying - and failing - to mask the jealousy. “You’re stuck on what you’re going to wear, aren’t you?”

Edge just shrugs, his open expression telling Bono everything he needs to know. He leans in to kiss him once more, before half-sitting up with a small apologetic smile.

“Do you want to just crash here? I cleaned out the guest room. You really shouldn’t drive with all the wine we drank,” Edge gets to his feet, and he offers a hand to help Bono up. They gather their shirts silently, and Edge gulps down the rest of his forgotten wine.

“Thanks, Reg,” Bono kisses Edge on the cheek, then makes for the guest room. Edge whispers a “Sorry” in his direction before turning off the light and walking toward his own room. He doesn’t feel quite like he can fall asleep yet, but settles between his sheets anyway. After some mindless minutes spent scrolling through his phone, he finds his thumb hovering over Mullen Auto Body in his contacts, the urge to text Larry sneaking into his mind. He’s had enough to drink that before he knows it, he has a message typed up, but before sending it, he changes the contact name from the business, to Larry.

_Sorry for the late text - just clueless on what to do for a costume. Any thoughts?_

He skims the message for typos three times, just to be safe, then holds his breath and sends it off. It’s opened almost immediately, and when the dots pop up that indicate Larry is typing, he kicks his legs around in his bed to get out some of his nervous energy.

_It’s cool, man! I’m a night owl. We don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to, I thought it sounded just crazy enough to be fun :)_

The smiley face sets off flares in Edge’s brain, and he has to calm his breathing for a moment before starting to type again.

_I’m in. I just haven’t done this costume thing in years. What are you going as?_

_Since I’ll be coming from work, I was planning on being a cowboy. The denim suit, and all._

_Yeehaw! ;)_

Edge stops and stares at what he’s just typed. He’s not sure if he can send it, but the wine he’s had convinces him it’ll be okay. He thinks again, deletes the winking face, and sends it off, and frantically begins typing his next message as soon as he sees that Larry has read it.

_I don’t know that I have anything myself that’ll make for a good costume…_

_Want me to pick you up earlier? We can see if the party store hasn’t been too picked-over yet :)_

The smiley face assures Edge that his “Yeehaw!” was well-received, and he finds himself smiling back at his phone for a moment, before he realizes that he should actually reply to Larry.

_That sounds great :)_

He would ordinarily cringe at so many emoji in his conversation - Bono’s his only friend who uses them liberally - but he can’t help himself. He’s hugging a pillow against his chest now, and when Larry replies again, he throws up a fist in victory without even thinking about it.

_I’ll pick you up at 7, then? We’ll get you all dolled up, sir. Ha! That was me, getting into cowboy character. Good night!_

Edge reads his text several times before it occurs to him that he could reply. He argues with himself for a few moments over it, then decides to leave well enough alone - the conversation came to a natural end and he needs sleep if he’s going to spend the next night out. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep, thankfully, and he wakes up still holding his phone. The evening comes back to him and he scrolls through his text messages with a grin, before a thud from the kitchen reminds him Bono is still there. He’s undoubtedly on the hunt for breakfast, and Edge sighs and pulls himself out of bed before his kitchen is destroyed. He’s still in his work slacks, which makes him laugh a little, so he finds a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, changes, and pads out to the kitchen. Bono has a bowl of cereal in front him at the counter, and he gives Edge a warm smile, but Edge has known him long enough that he can tell there’s a hint of frustration to his face - his smile isn’t quite reaching his eyes.

“Sleep well, Reg?” he offers, hardly waiting for a reply before adding, “Can you get me some orange juice?”

Edge has to smile at that - as long as Bono is bossing him around, he knows they’re on at least slightly good terms, jealousy aside. He sets his phone down on the counter and grabs cartons of juice and milk, not in the mood to cook himself. He’s about to ask Bono to pass him the cereal box, when he hears a low whistle.

“Who’s Larry? Why do you have three texts from him?” Edge dives to the counter to grab his phone, and Bono’s mouth turns up at the corners. “The mechanic? You’re texting him now?”

“We’re discussing costumes,” Edge explains, voice lifting into a laugh as he looks at the photos Larry has sent him.

“And what have you two lovebirds decided on?”

“What? Lovebirds? B, we’re going to a pub that happens to encourage costumes. This isn’t a date. I hardly know the guy!”

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time, is all,” Bono quietly says, busying himself with his breakfast.

Edge pockets his phone and sighs, instinctively moving to roll up his shirt sleeves before he realizes he’s just in a t-shirt. “Bono, he’s a nice guy. That’s all this is.” He’s prepared to continue this small argument when Bono asks him what time it is. “Almost 10, why?”

“Shit! I need to be on campus at 10 for a meeting. Group project. Fuck.” Before Edge can react, Bono is gathering his keys and looking for his shoes, and he’s calling out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” as he leaves Edge’s house.

Edge spends the day in a bit of a daze, filling and killing time with mindless Saturday television - he can’t bring himself to work on any chores around his house, like he usually would on a day off, but he’s happy to just relax for a change. More than once, he thinks about texting Bono to apologize again for their awkward evening; he even picks up his phone a few times and hovers his thumbs above the keypad before remembering he’s busy on campus and won’t have time to get into it anyway.

***

He likely would have been just fine texting Bono - after leaving Edge’s house, and a quick stop for coffee, he finds himself a bit of a useless lump in the group library study room his classmates took over. Two of his group members have taken it upon themselves to do the bulk of the work, anyway, so he doesn’t feel too bad about effectively hiding behind one of the computers in the room. He clicks mindlessly around Facebook, and before he knows it, he’s three years back on his professor’s profile, where some of his old friends had posted throwback photos from the 80s and 90s. Bono laughs to himself at the goofy old photos, Adam used to have wild curly hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. He can’t help but grin when further photos reveal that this group of friends must have been a band - there is Professor Clayton, dressed quite the same as always, onstage with a bass guitar. A quick check at his computer’s clock brings Bono back to the present, though, and he realizes he should maybe do something to help out this project.

“Ehm, I’m going to go see if there’s any books we missed on this,” he announces, rolling his chair from the large desk. He heads out to the endless shelves of books, no real destination in mind, but he figures he’s at least appearing to do something helpful wandering around here. What he doesn’t expect to find is his teacher, set up with grading, at one of the solo desks along the sunny windows that line one of the library walls. At once, Bono can see the younger version of him from his Facebook photos mixed with the current man before him, and he can’t help but like what he sees.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says with a grin, approaching Adam’s desk. Adam looks up from the essay he’s scoring and he flashes his signature little smile at Bono.

“Here with your group?”

“They’re in one of those rooms,” Bono gestures in what he assumes is the direction he came from, “Somewhere, I don’t know. I just wanted to take a stroll.”

“Pull up a seat. I’m sure they’ll think you’re just holed up in a book for a while, and I could use a little break from this grading.” Adam’s smile grows to include the corners of his mouth, and Bono can’t help but grin back. He grabs a chair from the next empty desk and is happy to watch Adam scoot his own chair over so there’s room for him to sit on the same side of his desk.

Bono glances over the papers in front of them and scowls, “What is all this?”

“We all have to teach a section of the introductory composition classes. It’s a dreadful time, if you ask me, but don’t tell these kids that.” Adam gestures to the essay he’s just worked through, there’s nearly more red pen from him on it than actual ink from the student. “I deserve a few minutes away from all this, though,” he says, shuffling the papers together into a folder, “How is your semester going?”

“I have to say, I’m enjoying myself. It’s more work than I expected, but I think I like being a student.”

“That’s clear to me,” Adam smiles, and Bono returns it, blushing so slightly he’s sure Adam can’t tell. “I’ll sound every bit the cliche professor, but you’re a sincere pleasure to have in my class.”

“You’re a great teacher!” Bono can’t help but exclaim. Adam nudges his shoulder against Bono at that, and that gives Bono the opening he’s looking for, so he asks, “Would our old bands have crossed paths back in the day?”

Adam laughs a little, but he doesn’t seem phased by the question. “Were you researching me in that study room of yours? We just played a few underground punk dives. Y’know, I was waiting for you to bring something of your past life up. I was so pleasantly surprised when I saw I was getting a bit of a celebrity in my class!”

“I’m hardly a celebrity,” Bono takes the opportunity to playfully nudge Adam back. At a nearby desk, a student’s phone buzzes, and Bono is reminded of that morning, and the smile that overtook Edge’s face. “What are you doing tonight?” he asks before he can think too hard about it.

Adam thumbs through the folder of papers, “I’m afraid my life isn’t very exciting nowadays.”

“It’s Halloween weekend! I think health boards have shut down our old haunts by now, but come out with me. Don’t --” Bono can see Adam raise a hand in a gentle protest, but he cuts him off and continues, “We don’t have to go crazy. It’d just be nice to talk somewhere we won’t get looks for talking above a whisper.” Adam laughs at that, as it’s clear they’ve both momentarily forgotten they’re in a library. “Meet me at the Tawdry Peacock around 9 o’clock?”

“Do I have to wear a costume?” Adam asks, eyebrows raising slightly.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Bono smiles, “But you look every bit the part of classic professor today. I wouldn’t be upset if I was caught in public with you!” He’s about to really lay on the charm when he sees one of his fellow group members walking over. “Well that didn’t take long. We’ve been spotted!” he whispers with a laugh.

“There you are,” Kate says, not appearing at all surprised by her older classmate and teacher sitting together, “Oh, hey Mr. Clayton. Bono went off to find more books and we thought we lost him!” Adam just smiles and lets her continue, “We’re done with the paper now, so we’re working out the presentation, if you can come back?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Bono grins, putting on the act of a much older man as he pushes his chair from the desk and stands up. “You’ll have to lead the way, though, I’m completely lost in this library.” Kate laughs and glances around at the shelves; the library isn’t that big. “9 o’clock,” Bono whispers to Adam as they walk off in the exact opposite direction Bono expects. He flashes a goofy grin back at Adam, who is now blushing and looking back at his folder like he’s forgotten how to open the damn thing.

“You weren’t looking for books, were you?” Kate asks, laughing at the innocent face Bono pulls, “It’s fine! I can tell you have a crush on him. I think it’s adorable.”

Bono grabs a book, any book, off the nearest shelf, and puts it under his arm with a smug smile. “So the rest of the group doesn’t call my bluff,” he opens the door to the study room, “After you.”

They divide the presentation easily - Bono has discovered he’s good at debates, so he’ll handle the question-and-answer segment toward the end, and Kate seems to have the rest of it well under control. As the rest of their group members pack up and leave the room, Kate regards Bono with a sly smile. “What’s going on at 9 o’clock?” she asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he answers, just as coyly, and Kate laughs. “Nothing too exciting, just a couple men well past their prime, getting together to discuss their crazy pasts.”

“For what it’s worth, you two looked very cute together behind that desk. I almost regretted having to bring you back here!”

“You flatter me, Kate. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go home and nap if I’m going to be a social butterfly tonight.” Bono leaves the library in a haze of a good mood, and the jealousy he’s been feeling over Edge and Larry settles to a barely-noticeable background noise.

***

Edge spends the better part of a half hour standing in front of his closet, staring at his clothes; usually when he goes out, it’s just when Bono convinces him to join a happy hour somewhere, so he rarely has to worry about this sort of thing. He’s made it into dark jeans and considers that a small victory, and eventually decides on a plaid flannel shirt - he assumes he can throw on a mask or something from the party store and be a generic Halloween guy. He’s more looking forward to spending some time with Larry, anyway.

Larry is punctual and Edge has to smile at that. His knock on the door at 6:59 is rhythmic and polite, and Edge nearly trips over his own feet as he crosses the short distance to the door. He’s flustered and a little breathless when he finally figures out how his own door locks and knob work, and if he wasn’t hanging onto the knob, the sight in front of him would have knocked him to the floor. Larry is leaning against the doorframe, the wood pushing his as-promised cowboy hat down so it hangs a little over his eyes. He’s in a spotless denim jumpsuit (“Did he iron it?” Edge thinks, marveling at this man), the pant legs tucked into authentic looking cowboy boots. Edge can’t stop his gaze from lingering over the several buttons Larry’s left undone, and when he finally makes it back up to Larry’s face, he realizes he hasn’t said so much as “hello” yet.

“Like what you see, partner?” Larry drawls, in a put-on western accent that takes away any chance Edge has of forming complete thoughts any time in the near future. Larry pushes off the doorframe and adjusts his hat. “Shall we?”

“Hi!” Edge blurts, looking shocked at the sound of his own voice. “I… I mean, hello, cowboy.”

Larry just laughs, his smile a vision that Edge can only grin back at. How did he manage to nearly ignore this man at his auto shop only yesterday morning? “Come on,” he says, voice lifting out of the fake drawl, “I’m worried the party store is going to be picked over but we can find you something to wear tonight.”

“Right.” Edge says, proud of himself for what appears to be a coherent, albeit short, reply. He manages to shut the door behind him without incident, and when Larry rests a hand on the small of his back as they head to his car, he’s amazed he doesn’t combust right there on the spot. His brain manages to regain some composure as they settle in the car, and he’s about to ask Larry about the status of his own car, but when they back out of the driveway, he realizes that Larry drives stick shift. His hand is inches from Edge’s leg, the middle of his thigh, really, gripping the gear shift in a way that makes Edge’s mouth water.

“Your car is getting there,” Larry says, glancing at Edge, making him wonder if he can read his mind. “I usually take Sundays off, but if you want it back first thing Monday, I wouldn’t mind going in for a few hours to get it finished.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that!” Edge replies (“A full sentence!” his brain congratulates him). “Whenever you get it done is fine, really. It’s not a long walk for me and I can always bother my friend for a ride if I need to.”

Larry flashes a grin at Edge at that, and Edge can’t help but assume it’s more because he’s actually said more than three words in a row. Edge can feel his brain power returning, but he can’t stop staring at this cowboy mechanic next to him. “That jumpsuit makes for a great costume,” he says, “I’m going to feel so underdressed next to you!”

“We’ll make something work,” Larry says, with a wink that undoes any progress Edge’s brain had made.

Larry’s optimism quickly runs out when they walk into the party store. What had just been aisles and aisles of costumes has already been switched out for Christmas decorations. “Halloween’s not for another three days!” Larry exclaims to no one in particular.

“Corporate makes us do it…” comes a response from somewhere further in the store, and Edge and Larry exchange a look. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I just get so sick of the complaints,” the sales clerk, Julia according to her nametag, walks up.

“No, I understand,” Larry quickly explains, “We’re just sort of looking for a last-minute Halloween costume and…” he gestures to the giant Christmas trees that are surrounding him. Edge shrugs with an apologetic smile at the poor employee.

“Follow me,” Julia says, turning down an aisle. She leads them to the back corner of the store, where Halloween has apparently gone to die. A handful of tiny princess dresses hang on a rack (“No.” Edge laughs, as soon as Larry spots them), and there are some plastic pumpkins, along with a few other random costume pieces.

“Forgive me, Julia, but do you have anything at all for this fine gentleman with me?” Larry asks. Julia disappears behind a small divider for a moment, and comes back with two bags.

“I have generic fireman, or sexy cop,” she announces. “I don’t think I have any cop hats left, though, but the fireman jacket has suspenders and a hat with it.”

“Sold,” Larry grins, then turning to Edge and lowering his voice, “Shame about the sexy cop, though. I would have liked to see that.” Edge lets out a completely undignified noise in response, which he covers with a fit of fake coughs that make Larry laugh. When he’s recovered, he realizes Larry is no longer next to him, and he exhales a breath that comes out more a giddy laugh than anything.

“Coming, Edge?” Larry calls from the front of the store (when did he get up there?), and Edge walks up in a daze. Julia is ringing up his costume, and Larry is reaching for his wallet, and Edge can’t help but be reminded of when he was a child, his mother buying him new clothes for school. He’s stuck on that until Larry again rests his hand on the small of his back, and they’re out of the store before Edge realizes it. Larry walks him around to the side of the store, and stops so he’s standing facing Edge. “You okay, man?”

Edge offers a shy smile, “Can you tell I don’t do this very often?” Larry’s got a hand on his shoulder now, his thumb lightly tracing invisible patterns on Edge’s neck. “I just get caught up in my head sometimes. I’m here, though. I’m good.”

“Good.” Larry echoes, sounding very sure of himself, “Because I want to try this.” He leans in slightly and gives Edge a moment to stop him. He’s met with a smile and a quiet exhale, so he gently kisses him, nothing more than a press of lips, and when he moves back, Edge is smiling so big his whole face is involved in it. “Let’s turn you into a fireman,” Larry says, his voice back in that dark whisper, and Edge had all but forgotten about the pub. “This jacket’s really heavy…” Larry says, “Do you have an undershirt on? You’re going to burn up tonight with this flannel.”

Edge laughs at the unintentional pun Larry’s made, then realizes that in his panicky dressing earlier, he only put on the heavy top. He pulls the collar away from his neck slightly so Larry can see there’s nothing else there.

“Okay! Off with the shirt, then,” Larry announces, fishing the suspenders out from the bag. Edge can’t believe the no-nonsense approach Larry takes with this costume and he’s about to protest when Larry continues, “No one at the pub will know you’re shirtless under this jacket.” He lowers his voice again, “I will… but that’ll make it a fun night.” Edge is unbuttoning his shirt before he realizes he’s doing it, and Larry helps him fasten the suspenders. “Now THIS is a look,” Larry laughs, taking in Edge’s hairy chest, suspenders tight against him.

“Jacket?” Edge asks, but he’s smiling, so Larry places the hat on his head instead, first. Now it’s Larry’s turn to take in the man in front of him, and Edge can clearly see the exact instant his eyes go dark with lust. This sets something off in Edge, and the daze he’s found himself in lifts. He’s grown almost used to the heat that Bono often regards him with, but realizing he’s the cause for this new person to look at him this way gives him a surge of confidence. He surprises Larry when he cups his face in his hands, and kisses him back, this time with a slip of tongue. “Let’s get to that bar,” Edge whispers, still close to Larry’s mouth. “Jacket, please?”

Larry helps Edge into the jacket, adjusting the collar for maybe a moment longer than he needs to, before flashing him a smile full of promise for the night. They walk back to the car the same way they walked into the store, and Edge savors the realization that Larry’s hand will find his back every time they walk together. Edge considers just crawling into Larry’s lap in the car, but he’s not as young as he used to be, and he knows his knee will lock up if he scrunches his body that way. He settles for resting his hand on Larry’s on the gear shift, tracing the same patterns from his neck onto the back of his hand.

Their initial nerves clearly have lifted, and conversation flows much easier as they drive; Larry makes good on his promise to explain just how gently he can handle a car, even a stick shift. Edge can’t help but lick his lips when Larry says “stick shift” and he’s almost disappointed when they arrive at the pub because he’s not quite in the mood to be surrounded by other people, especially when Larry’s looking at him like that. Thankfully, the pub isn’t very crowded, and they find a small table in a corner.

“What are you drinking?” Larry asks when they’ve settled in, knees touching.

“Beer, for now?” Edge says, “I’m only letting you get this round, though. I saw how much this costume cost!” Larry just throws him a smile as he heads for the bar, and Edge takes the moment to take in the scene. It’s a pub he and Bono have visited many times since it’s so close to his house, but he doesn’t recognize the other patrons, the holiday likely bringing different people out. He notices the small karaoke stage in the opposite corner is set up for the night, and has to smile at the memories of Bono serenading the room after more than a few happy hours that stretched on into the late evening. His smile grows when Larry’s walking back to him, somehow carrying four pints - Edge hadn’t yet realized how large his hands are. “That’s cheating,” Edge laughs, “You can’t just get two rounds on one round and think we’re even!”

“Drink up, then,” Larry replies, settling back into his seat. He shifts so their legs, more than just their knees, are pressed together, and Edge doesn’t want to get up for the bar ever again because it means he’ll lose this contact. They drink their first pints quickly, and Larry boasts about his foresight when Edge reaches for his second. That earns him a kiss for his thoughtful thinking, and Edge is keenly aware of just how high Larry’s hand is now resting on his thigh. He doesn’t remove his hand when they break apart, a little more breathless than they had been in the parking lot.

They manage to talk more through their second pints, sharing complaints about their jobs, plans for the upcoming holiday season, and the sort of small talk that would otherwise be innocent if Larry’s hand wasn’t constantly in motion on Edge’s leg. Edge is about to flag down a bartender for the next round of drinks (no way is he getting up now), when Larry grins at him. “Shots?” he asks, and Edge rarely does shots but it’s a holiday weekend and this cowboy is irresistible. Larry’s to the bar and back in record time, and he places two tiny glasses of an impossibly red liquid in front of them, before his hand returns to Edge’s leg. “I talked to the bartender,” Larry says, and Edge wonders when he had time to do more than order these, “We can just wave him over if we want more so we don’t need to be disturbed.” Edge is about to laugh and say he was thinking exactly that, but Larry hands him one of the glasses, so Edge takes it. They clink their glasses together and down the liquor, and Edge smiles. “Cinnamon,” he says, licking his lips, “Apropo choice given my being a fireman.”

Larry lifts one of the empty pint glasses when he notices the bartender look their way, and Edge, feeling more than a little brave, also raises an empty shot glass. “Happy Halloween, indeed…” Larry murmurs, inching his hand a little higher on Edge’s thigh. Edge turns in his seat so he’s facing Larry more than the bar room, and the pair continue to share details of their lives and laugh about their meeting because of Edge’s car, so he doesn’t notice when a certain professor walks in and takes a seat at a table by the karaoke stage, just opposite the bar from them.

***

Adam had lost track of time with his grading, filling up on coffee and granola bars from the library vending machines, so he’s come right from the library and hopes Bono won’t be disappointed he’s not in a costume of any sort. Pubs aren’t really his thing - he’s been sober since his old band broke up - but he couldn’t resist Bono’s offer of seeing each other somewhere that’s not on campus. He gets a ginger ale from the bar, and there’s no sign of Bono yet (“Probably putting finishing touches on his costume,” Adam thinks with a laugh), so he reaches into his briefcase and is about to pull back out his folders and pen, when the pub door opens. Now, Adam has to laugh out loud; Bono is dressed in tight black pants, an impossibly tight police officer shirt with buttons that probably never served a purpose, and an impressively authentic-looking police officer hat. He’s wearing dark sunglasses even though it’s long after sunset, but he removes them and hangs them off the low v of his collar, and greets Adam with a grin he can’t contain.

“Nice costume,” Bono says, his eyes twinkling, “Sexy teacher, right?”

“Pull up a seat, officer,” Adam replies, his voice thick with laughter and appreciation. Bono offers to get him a drink, and responds with a warm, understanding smile when Adam gestures to his ginger ale.

“You don’t mind my inviting you here, do you?” Bono asks, momentarily dropping his cop character.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to come out if I had,” Adam replies, “Go get a drink!”

Bono heads to the bar and chats with the bartender while he’s preparing shots for another table. “I’ll get you when I get back,” he says, and Bono rests an elbow on the bar and watches as he walks the shots over to a small table in the corner. It takes Bono more than a moment to realize that the fireman who he hands the shots to is none other than a blushing Edge, and Bono turns back to the bar quickly in his surprise, though he should have guessed this was the pub he would wind up at with Larry. Bono’s known Edge for nearly his entire life, and he can count on one hand the number of times he’s convinced him to take shots. When the bartender hands him his usual whiskey, he downs it almost immediately and orders another before heading back to Adam’s table.

The smile on Adam’s face is enough to make Bono forget about Edge, though, and he leans in close to tell Adam how pleased he is he agreed to join him tonight. They stay pressed close together; karaoke has begun so the pub grows louder by the minute, and they talk about their bands, the shoddy venues they used to play, and their memories of the old music scene. Bono can’t help but sneak glances at Edge’s table, though, and after a short while, he leans ever closer so his mouth is brushing Adam’s ear.

“You know, there’s a girl in class who’s on to us,” he tells Adam, his voice rough from the whiskey already.

“Is there?” Adam sounds amused, and his eyebrows raise in a way that Bono finds purely adorable. “Kate, right? The one who stole you from me earlier?” he adds after a pause, and Bono grins at the thought of Adam being disappointed Bono had to leave him at the library.

“Should we confirm her suspicions?” Bono asks, ghosting his lips along Adam’s jawline. He can’t help but glance at Edge again (he’s all but in Larry’s lap now), but Bono remembers he’s out with a man who is very much into him, who he finds truly handsome and fascinating, so when Adam places his hand on his cheek to turn him to face him properly, he sighs happily, relieved they’re on the same page.

“Promise you won’t be brazen in class on Monday,” Adam’s voice has gone low now, too, “And we can give her something to talk about.” Bono closes the tiny space between their lips, both hands finding their way into Adam’s hair.

“Like honey on my tongue…” Bono breathes, lips still touching Adam’s. He moves back only slightly, to press his forehead against Adam’s, but his police officer cap gets in the way, so Adam places it on the table with a smile so sweet Bono can’t help but lean in for another small kiss.

“I think I’m more worried about myself, having to stand in front of the classroom with you in the front row,” Adam says. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the school year started.” Bono just laughs in response, feeling like a weight has lifted. He sits back a little and sips his drink, and Adam laughs, too, no doubt as relieved as Bono is. They settle back into conversation, and it’s natural and fun and Bono nearly forgets about Edge when Adam’s eyes light up as he dives into an especially funny anecdote from his band days. Time passes quickly as they talk, and Bono finds himself entirely caught up in this professor. The sound of chair legs scraping the floor from across the bar makes him look over, though, and when he sees Edge press Larry against the wall near their table, he nearly chokes on his whiskey. Adam doesn’t seem to notice, though, so Bono recovers quickly and turns his attention back to his date.

***

After their second shots and third pints, Edge laughs (more a giggle than anything) and thanks Larry for having him take his shirt off earlier, before he put this silly jacket on. He’s blushing royally, a mix of the warmth from the alcohol, and also from the way Larry’s eyes have darkened as their conversation has turned from little details of their lives, to a more carnal admiration of each other’s bodies - Larry’s removed his cowboy hat, and Edge unzips his jacket a little lower (“because it’s warm,” he tells himself).

Eventually, Edge has to excuse himself to the bathroom, and he hates having to leave Larry for even a minute, but it’s necessary. He watches his reflection in the mirror as he washes his hands, and he looks like he always does - albeit more pink-cheeked - but he holds his own gaze for a few moments, trying to find something visually that matches this newfound energy that’s coursing through him. He’s sure it could just be the alcohol (he’s certainly had enough to have a nice buzz going), but he feels so confident as this fireman, and he wants to capture the feeling. After several minutes, he pulls himself away from the mirror and starts back to his table, but Larry is now standing next to it, his face lighting up when Edge walks toward him.

“I was just about to check on you, I was worried you fell--” Edge cuts Larry off with a firm, hard kiss, one hand at his waist, the other his neck, and he backs him up against the wall. Larry bumps into his chair, sending it scraping across the floor with a horrible noise, but neither are at all bothered to care. “...in,” Larry finishes when they have to pull apart for air, before biting his own lower lip, his eyes glazed over.

Edge is breathing heavily, and as he moves to press his hips and body against Larry’s, the rise and fall of his chest sends heat coursing through Larry’s body. Larry’s hands find Edge’s hips, and he pulls him impossibly closer when their lips meet again. Their kiss is slower now, less urgent, but more heated, and when Larry’s tongue first swipes into Edge’s mouth, Edge grunts and thrusts his hips and knows he’s done for. He slides his hands from Larry’s waist and neck to his chest - he’s very glad Larry left so many buttons undone, and he opens two more for good measure before moving his mouth from Larry’s, to his neck and collarbone. Larry leans his head back against the wall and moans, and Edge is momentarily grateful for the group of people now scream-singing at the karaoke machine (though at the same time, a part of him would love for the whole world to hear the sounds he’s drawing out of Larry).

One of Larry’s hands slides up Edge’s back, seemingly of its own accord, and knocks Edge’s hat off his head. Edge turns his attention from Larry’s neck when he hears it hit the floor, then leans back a little to take in the sight before him. Larry’s left shoulder is completely out of the jumpsuit now, the skin there slick with sweat and red from Edge’s mouth.

“Don’t stop,” Larry hisses out between short breaths. His head is still against the wall, but one corner of his mouth is twisted in a smile, so Edge licks a stripe up his throat and laughs gently.

“We’re in public,” he whispers in Larry’s ear, and the heat from his breath makes Larry shudder, a full-body shudder that feels incredible against Edge’s cock. His hips thrust against Larry’s at that, and Larry’s laugh is so low Edge can only feel it.

“You don’t seem to mind.”

Larry must have ordered more shots while Edge was in the bathroom; the bartender drops them off while Edge takes a moment to catch his breath and regain maybe some of his composure, though he has barely moved from where he has Larry crowded against the wall. He grabs one of them off the table, downs it, then picks up the other and tips it toward Larry’s lips. Larry smirks at him before opening his lips around the entire little glass rim, and Edge mutters a quiet “Fuck…” as he watches Larry’s throat work when he swallows the liquor.

“Get back here,” Larry demands, pulling Edge by the lapels of his jacket. Edge realizes very quickly that he’d be stupid to not listen, so he blindly sets the other empty glass down, and lets Larry pull him back against him. One of his legs gets wedged between Larry’s, and when Larry leans in this time, to bite and lick Edge’s ear, Edge can’t help but grind against Larry, public setting be damned. Edge lets out a whimper when Larry bites his earlobe particularly hard, and turns his head so their lips can meet again, not once letting up the grinding that is spreading a heat from where it’s pooled in his groin to every nerve in his body.

“Good song,” Edge mutters as Fleetwood Mac’s ‘The Chain’ starts playing, matching the rhythm with his movements against Larry’s body, their lips still meeting as often as they can with how deep they’re breathing now. Larry can only groan as a reply, and his hands get to work unzipping the rest of Edge’s fireman jacket. The second the karaoke singer begins, though, Edge’s head snaps up and he stiffens in panic.

“What?” Larry asks, panting. “What’s wrong? We can stop.”

“No, no, this is fine, it’s more than fine, no,” Edge breathlessly tries to assure Larry what they are doing is okay, but he can tell Larry knows something is wrong. “I just,” he glances, for the first time all evening, at the rest of the bar, and spots Bono behind the karaoke machine, wailing the chorus, “I know him. The one singing? He’s my… friend.”

Edge backs away slightly as Larry takes in the scene, and he straightens his jacket while clearing his throat. “Are you still seeing him, or…?” Larry trails off, and only getting a helpless shrug from Edge in reply, continues, “Because this song is all…” he gestures wildly at the space in the bar between Edge and Bono.

“We’ve never seen each other,” Edge replies, his voice lifting at the end as though he’s asking a question instead of stating it. Larry moves back to their table, righting his chair and motioning for Edge to sit, then to the bartender for more beer before sitting himself. “We just… see each other, sometimes? And never talk about it any other time? He’s one of my oldest friends, actually.” Edge looks at Larry like he expects him to run out of the pub, but he does the exact opposite, and instead takes one of Edge’s hands in both of his.

“Well that’s something,” he says, as thoughtfully as he can in his current state. He listens to him sing for a moment, then scrunches up his face in thought. “I know that voice. Why do I know that voice?”

Edge laughs a little, then explains who Bono is, briefly, while the song finishes out. He’s grateful to not have the kick drum beating into his head anymore so he can think a little more clearly. “Should we say hi?” he asks, “I don’t know how to do this but he had to have seen--” Bono’s walking over, a completely unreadable expression on his face. “Hey,” Edge offers.

“Larry, right?” Bono asks, sizing up his competition. Before either man can reply, Edge notices someone else had followed Bono to their table, and the concerned look he’s giving Bono. His sweater, striped shirt, and khakis are a dead giveaway.

“Professor Clayton?” Edge asks back, surprising Bono.

“Adam,” Bono corrects him automatically, making Adam jump slightly.

“What?”

“...Nothing. Yes, Edge, this is Adam,” Bono says, not looking at Edge, but continuing to eye Larry.

Adam moves forward and extends a hand to Larry. “Larry, I heard. Hi. I’m Adam.” Larry shakes his hand and looks to Edge with a bewildered expression. Edge just grimaces but it makes Larry laugh since they’ve had so much to drink, and Bono looks like he’s about to scream or cry or maybe burst into laughter himself.

“Nice to meet you,” Bono finally says, then takes Adam by the arm and walks back to their table.

Edge exhales for what feels like a full minute, and he turns to Larry, whose face is a mix of concern and sincere amusement. “What. Was that?” Larry asks, wiping at his eyes.

“Did I not mention he’s a little dramatic?” Edge asks, surprising himself a little with the laughter in his own voice.

“I got there,” Larry replies, putting a hand on his shoulder. “He means a lot to you, I can tell.”

“He’s my best friend,” Edge explains, looking across the room, where Bono and Adam appear to be having a similar conversation. “Like I said… we’ve never dated? Shit, I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole here. You don’t, do you?” Larry’s lightly massaging Edge’s bicep now, and Edge just smiles because it’s the response he needs, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t do this kind of thing often… at all,” he finishes.

“I think you are a very interesting, complex, caring person,” Larry says fondly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Edge’s cheek with every word. The bartender brings their beer over, and Larry pauses to take a drink. “But, I think the two of you have to talk about whatever this is at some point, soon, because what just happened there? That made my head hurt.”

“You have no idea,” Edge replies, flashing a genuine, grateful smile at Larry.

“Will you be okay if I run to the bathroom?” Larry asks, “I was going to go when you got back, but, well…” The reminder makes Edge’s cheeks blush, and he waves Larry off. Edge settles back into his chair and tries to work through how he could possibly start this conversation with Bono. He doesn’t have much luck in his current state, but that’s probably for the better, he thinks, eyeing the several empty glasses on their table.

***

Larry’s about to leave the bathroom, when Adam walks in - almost walks right into him in the narrow doorway. “Adam, was it?” he asks, making them both laugh. “Look, I think you and I got pulled into something unresolved here, but they’re great guys, aren’t they?”

“They both have good taste, at the very least,” Adam replies, a little cheeky. Larry takes a moment with that because he’s not sure if Adam is complimenting himself and Larry, or Bono and Edge, or… Larry’s had too much to drink for all this, so he just smiles and agrees.

That appears to work for Adam, because his whole face seems to work together when he smiles at him, and Larry can’t help but sincerely grin back. When Larry gets back to the table, Edge gives him a curious look - he had watched Adam walk into the bathroom while Larry was still in there, and spent the few minutes working himself back up to a near panic, imagining what they could be talking about.

Larry entertains this, and takes a long drink of his beer while Edge shoots increasingly pointed stares and looks his way. “He’s a nice guy!” he finally exclaims, laughing. He’s about to explain further, but a loud brass intro blares over the speakers - a group of young girls have huddled around the microphone to sing some Shakira.

Edge immediately looks to Bono, across the bar - they spent the weeks after this song came out making each other laugh like fools with increasingly bad Colombian accents, and more than once, Bono would then demonstrate his supposed belly dancing skills for Edge - and those dance sessions would end with them breathless in bed. Bono’s looking right at him, so he hardly notices when Adam returns to his table. Larry catches Adam’s eye and raises his beer to him, and Adam raises his eyebrows in response.

“Go talk to him,” Larry whispers, “It’ll do you both good.”

Edge turns to Larry in surprise, but Larry just shrugs and tells him it’s okay, he understands. He scoops his fireman hat off the floor, puts it on, and adjusts his jacket in a daze. He’s so caught up in it all that he doesn’t realize Adam crosses the room at the same time he does, and immediately takes up his old seat next to Larry.

“Shakira, Shakira,” Bono says as greeting when Edge is standing over his table. He waits a moment before looking up, but he’s smiling and Edge immediately realizes that it’ll somehow all be okay.

“This is why I never go out,” Edge laughs as he sits down, wobbling a little on the way into the chair.

“Are you drunk?!” Bono asks, his face lighting up, and for a moment, it’s clear he’s forgotten all the jealousy and scorn that’s filled his evening. “I love drunk Reg,” he adds when Edge can only keep laughing.

“B, I never once wanted to hurt you. I know I did. I’m sorry,” Edge says when he finally calms his laughter down. “I don’t like hurting people!” he continues. “...Shit! Larry!” He looks across the bar, and sees that Larry and Adam are watching them with identical, bemused expressions.

“I think they’ll be fine,” Bono says, a little quieter than usual for him, and Edge can tell he doesn’t mean just Larry and Adam, that he’s also talking about himself and Edge. “Thank you,” he adds. Edge takes his hand and squeezes it, and maybe they don’t need to talk it all out tonight after all, maybe this is enough for now. “We really loved this song, didn’t we?”

“I loved what happened after we listened to it,” Edge replies, clearly still in a certain state of mind. Bono regards him with raised eyebrows, and he puts his police officer hat back on.

“We make quite a pair, don’t we? Dance with me, mister fireman.” Edge lets Bono help him to his feet, and while he doesn’t dance much himself, Bono spins around, shimmies his hips, and does his best Shakira moves.

When the song ends, Larry walks over, and Bono graciously says hi to him this time. “Can I borrow Edge for a moment?” he asks, and Bono takes a step away, but doesn’t stop watching the two of them.

“Adam’s going to drive me home,” Larry says, and Edge begins to jump into an apology, but he can see that Larry does not look upset at all about it. Larry glances at Bono, who’s watching now with a dark smile, then takes Edge by the back of his neck and kisses him, sloppy and hard. “I’ll see you on Monday to get your car back to you,” he says, before kissing him one more time, quick, then practically skipping over to Adam. Edge touches his lips, a little dumbfounded.

Adam waves to Bono and says, “I’ll see you Monday!” before throwing an arm across Larry’s shoulders and turning them toward the door. Edge turns to Bono with wide eyes and he can still taste Larry on his lips. He’s not sure what just happened, but he knows he’s still very keyed up, and the way Bono looked at him when Larry kissed him is stuck in his mind.  
  
“Let’s go,” Bono whispers into Edge’s ear, hot breath and low-voiced, and all his thoughts are confirmed. Edge leaves some cash on Bono’s table - he assumes it’ll cover the evening - and they head to the parking lot. Being outside clears Edge’s head some, but he can tell he’s still quite tipsy, and Bono appears to be stumbling a little, too. “Are you coming?” he asks, a few feet past Edge, toward the sidewalk.

“Did you walk here?” Edge asks, tripping a little in his attempt to catch up.

“I parked at your house,” Bono explains, and before Edge can question it, there’s a rumble of thunder, and the heavens open up.

“Shit!” Edge yells as massive raindrops begin falling. It’s not far to his house - only three blocks - but the rain is torrential and whatever material his costume jacket is made out of soaks through immediately. He wants to speed up to a run to get out of the rain, but his legs aren’t quite cooperating, and Bono doesn’t seem to be in a hurry at all. By the time they get to his house, their clothes are plastered to them, but they’re both laughing uncontrollably.

Bono takes off his cop hat and throws it in the general direction of a chair in the living room. His usually-styled hair is flat on his head from the rain, and he shakes it out, shooting water in all directions. Edge can’t be bothered to scold him, he just sets his own hat near Bono’s and starts in on his wet shoes, which proves to be very complicated.

“So he got you into a costume,” Bono says, from closer than Edge expects.

“It was all they had left! Well, this and… oh my god,” Edge trails off on a laugh, “You’re the sexy cop!” Bono just looks down at his drenched, tiny shirt, and smiles. “Wait… where did you get that cap? It looks real, B!”

“That is between me and the cop I met on the way to the pub,” Bono replies, which Edge finds hilarious for some reason - the whole night has been so ridiculous, why wouldn’t Bono have made some sort of deal with a real police officer while dressed as a sexy police officer? He laughs for a few moments at that, and Bono lets him, then pulls him into an embrace. “I missed this, I missed you,” Bono says, his voice muffled as he’s talking more into Edge’s chest than anything. Edge is going to reply, say they were together only yesterday, when Bono shifts around and pushes him away a little, a grin working across his face. “Reg... You don’t have a shirt on under this, do you?”

Edge just blushes and unzips the jacket, revealing his now-matted from the rain chest hair, and the suspenders. Bono pushes the jacket off his shoulders and purses his lips as he lets his gaze linger up and down his body. “Yes?” Edge asks, when Bono finally makes eye contact again.

“Remind me to sneak Larry’s number from your phone so I can thank him later,” Bono murmurs, his voice thick with lust, and Edge can’t help but wonder what it is about him in this ridiculous getup that does this. He doesn’t have time to respond, though; Bono takes him by the hand and leads him to his own bedroom, both men clumsily kicking off their shoes and socks on the way.

“B, I don’t want to get my sheets all wet,” Edge whines, his brain taking a moment to catch up to the implication behind what he’s just said.

Bono is right there, though. He presses up close against Edge, and the feeling of his wet shirt against his bare chest makes him shiver. “You won’t.” Bono whispers, his voice low and dark and Edge can tell this isn’t going to be as simple as their other clandestine meetings. “Get out of these pants.” Edge hisses as Bono’s cold fingers work on the button and fly of his soaked jeans, the material tight and clinging to his hips and legs.

“Suspenders, B,” Edge manages to say, and Bono turns him around so he can unsnap them from the back. He works his hands to Edge’s front, though, first, and Edge groans when he’s pulled tight against him. His damp skin is getting cold, but Bono’s body is somehow a furnace against his back, and when he realizes he can feel just how hard Bono is already, against his ass, he groans again. Bono’s breath is hot on his neck as he works the clasps, letting his fingers linger and slip under the waist of Edge’s jeans for a moment.

“Turn around, with your hands up,” Bono hisses into Edge’s ear, and Edge laughs a little because he can’t help it, but Bono digs his fingers into his hips, silencing him.

“Can’t turn around with your hands--” Edge smirks, but Bono smacks his ass, the wet denim only amplifying the sensation.

“Don’t talk back,” Bono says, voice rough, but when he turns Edge to face him again, his eyes are sparkling and Edge can tell this is their game for the night. “Hands. Up.” He punctuates each word with rough kisses that leave Edge’s head spinning. He lets Bono finish removing his suspenders before he raises his hands, then clasps them together behind his head, a pose he’d be more comfortable with while laying down, and he’d feel silly like this if he didn’t catch the hitch in Bono’s breathing.

Edge is turned on beyond belief, but he can’t quite shut his brain up yet, so he screws up his face in thought for a moment. “Can I say something now?” he asks. Bono nods slightly, his hands still tracing gentle patterns just along Edge’s waistband. “Ehm, I know I hurt your feelings,” he begins, and Bono nods again. “And I know--”

“Reg?” Bono interrupts, “Please don’t apologize again. We’ve never put a name to…” he trails off to tenderly kiss Edge, momentarily dropping his cop character. “To this.”

“I know,” Edge continues again, “And I don’t know what we should call this is, because… it’s just… it’s us. But…”

“Larry’s sexy,” Bono finishes for him, and Edge laughs. “What?! I have eyes, Reg!”

“This is our kind of okay, isn’t it?” Edge asks, marveling at his best friend, at their relationship, whatever it is. He hasn’t moved his hands from their spot at the back of his head, and he inhales sharply when Bono’s fingers finally slip under the waistband of his underwear, and he begins sliding his jeans down with them.

“It is,” Bono agrees, then stops his movement with a wicked grin. Edge shoots him a confused look as he pulls his jeans back up and re-fastens the button, but when Bono growls, “Spread your legs,” he realizes Bono’s gone back into character. Bono drops to his knees and he hasn’t even touched Edge yet, but Edge glances down and bucks his hips forward at the mere sight. “You don’t have permission to move,” Bono grips Edge’s hips tight to emphasize his point, then begins the maddening process of feeling him up. Edge’s soaked jeans make him shiver in the wake of Bono’s hands, and when Bono moves his attention to his other leg, he can’t contain a low moan. He’s been so turned on since Larry first kissed him, and it feels like it’s been far longer than the few hours that have passed.

The sensation changes when Bono moves to where his legs meet, and Edge looks down to see that Bono’s now mouthing him through his jeans, his breath hot through the fabric. “Fuck…” Edge moans, his hands moving into Bono’s wet hair. Bono groans against him at that, then suddenly pulls Edge’s jeans and underwear down, helps Edge step out of them, and stands up. He’s panting a little, but flashes a wicked smile at Edge, and he realizes he’s not done with this role play yet.

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he instructs. Edge does as he’s told, but his eyes grow wide when he watches Bono pull handcuffs out of his pocket. “Relax, they’re plastic,” he laughs, “But don’t just slide your hands out of them, okay? I’m enjoying this.” Edge lets Bono move his hands behind his back; the plastic cuffs barely stay locked around his wrists but Bono’s breath catches at the sight and Edge can tell he’s getting off on this. There’s an intimate pause when Bono looks deep into Edge’s eyes and Edge nods in response, their silent conversation the consent Bono is looking for.

Bono removes his infuriatingly tight costume shirt - it’s barely covered his chest at all anyway - and can’t help but lean down to give Edge a long, deep kiss. “You’re sucking me off,” he murmurs against Edge’s lips, enjoying the way Edge licks his own lips automatically in response. Edge usually fills the dominant role when they’re together, but he’s enjoying the way Bono has taken to this character. They’ve taken turns jerking each other off before, and Bono has gone down on Edge, but this is the first time Bono’s asked him to reciprocate, and Edge shudders a little in anticipation and arousal. Bono makes a show of taking off his own pants, and takes a moment to stroke himself over his underwear. Edge licks his lips again and Bono whispers, “Can’t wait to get that tongue on me,” and Edge feels himself getting hard, and Bono’s eyes go dark at the sight.

“Come here,” Edge says, his voice rough. Bono removes his underwear and steps forward. Edge has to shift down a little to make the angle work, and it’s not entirely comfortable for him since his arms are stretched awkwardly behind him, but the hiss Bono lets out when Edge tongues the tip of his cock makes it all worth it. Bono’s never been quiet in bed (or on kitchen floors), and his moans and sighs only turn Edge on more. Edge takes a moment to look up at Bono through hooded eyes, and he can’t help but tenderly whisper, “Fuck, B…” when he sees that Bono’s head is thrown back, his neck glistening with sweat, and he’s hardly done anything to him yet. He returns his attention to Bono’s cock, this time taking it into his mouth, just a little, and the whine Bono lets out is all the encouragement he needs. He works his tongue on the underside since it’s what he likes the most when their roles are reversed, and it’s clear that Bono loves it just as much by the sounds and attempts at words he’s making.

Edge takes him deeper, and falls into a rhythm when Bono begins thrusting his hips. His hands find Edge’s shoulders for support and when Edge moans around his cock, Bono matches him with a loud moan of his own, trailing off into a litany of “Edge your mouth, your tongue, fuck, Edge, fuck, deeper.” Edge pulls off for a moment with a wet noise, catches his breath, and when he moves back in, he takes Bono deep as he can and groans when he can feel Bono near the back of his throat. Bono picks back up on his praising Edge as he thrusts once, twice more, then he’s coming and running his fingers over Edge’s head and neck as he swallows it all. Edge keeps working his tongue as Bono comes down, and looks up with a pleased smile when Bono has to gently push him away when he gets too sensitive.

“You’ve never done that before,” Bono rasps between deep breaths.

“Thought about it,” Edge replies, his own voice shot and gravelly.

Bono quirks an eyebrow at that, and he gently tips Edge’s head back so they’re again looking at each other. Bono’s face is flushed and his pupils are entirely dilated. Edge is reminded of his own arousal at that, and Bono licks his lips when he notices the precum glistening on Edge’s cock. He drops to his knees in between Edge’s legs, and looks up in confusion when Edge manages to get out a “Wait.”

“What is it?” Bono asks, more to his cock than anything else, and Edge can’t help but laugh at the fixation Bono clearly has, though his laugh sounds a little strained.

“Please uncuff me, officer,” Edge asks in as sweet a voice he can muster. Bono only laughs, low, in response, and the rush of hot breath against his cock makes Edge shudder. “Please,” Edge asks again, a little desperately, and he’s not used to being the one in this position, asking Bono to do anything for him, and the tone of his voice makes Bono pay attention. He knows he could get out of the plastic handcuffs himself, but he also knows how much Bono has loved this whole role play, so he goes along with it.

“You have been very good,” Bono says. He reaches behind Edge to remove the cuffs, tosses them aside, and sighs happily when Edge’s hands find his damp hair.

He gets right back to work, immediately taking Edge deep in his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, and the sudden sensation makes Edge scratch his nails against his scalp. Bono purrs at that, and Edge doesn’t usually say much when they’re like this, sighing and moaning more than anything else, but the “Feels good, B…” he whispers in a hush is almost reverent. He doesn’t last long, with Bono’s insistent mouth and the past few hours catching up with him, and he comes with a snap of his hips. A little come makes it past Bono’s lips, and the sight of his tongue darting out to lap it up makes Edge moan again, before he falls back on the mattress, entirely spent.

“Come here,” Bono grins, shuffling to his feet and up onto the bed. He moves up to lean against the headboard, and pulls Edge up into his arms. Edge burrows into Bono’s chest, and they stay still and quiet for a few moments.

Edge laughs a little, breaking the comfortable silence. “So that was your teacher,” he says, then is thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I was jealous, too, when I saw you with him.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever known you to be jealous,” Bono chuckles, gently raking his nails through Edge’s chest hair.

“I guess it took a certain type of man to ignite that fire in me,” Edge replies. They’re silent again for a bit, savoring the moment, before Bono shifts so he’s half-sitting above Edge, and he looks down on him with his eyebrows raised.

“Which type of man, Reg?”

“What?” Edge asks, a blush creeping from his cheeks to his neck and collarbone.

Bono speaks slowly, lust making his voice dark as he regards Edge. “Were you talking about me, or Adam, igniting that fire?”

Edge clears his throat, and answers so softly that, had the room not been silent (save for Bono’s ragged breathing), he wouldn’t have heard him, but Bono makes him repeat it anyway so he can savor the thought, “Both, B.”

“Well, isn’t that something,” Bono replies, settling back in next to Edge. “I’m tired,” he announces, and the room is still and quiet for a while, and Edge is sure Bono’s fallen asleep, when he hears him mumble, “Larry has nice hair.”

 


End file.
